For Charity
by Guinevere81
Summary: I wrote this story for Secret Santa 2015 as a gift for complexlight. Moody's orders are clear: all senior officers must take part in the Charity Calendar for Christmas. Robbie and James are not best pleased. Yet things develop and in the end they may have reason to thank Moody for his interference.
1. Chapter 1

'A calendar', Robbie frowns, 'like the bloody WI?' He glares at Moody across the table with genuine scepticism.

'It's for charity Robert and you need to set a good example.' Moody suggests.

'You want me to show myself in me birthday suit as a good example?' Robbie asks incredulously, watching as James smirks beside him.

'I never said naked, I said sexy and personal. You present your private passions in a senusal way to appeal to the public. We'll find a good interest for each of you.' Moody's smile is entirely disconcerting under the circumstances as is James' lack of objections to this insane scheme.

Just the e-mail from Moody informing them that the office would be doing a charity calendar in support of the refugee situation had Robbie concerned. The words 'Showing the world that coppers have private lives and sex appeal' in one sentence had Robbie's shackles up, though that might have more to do with his recent breakup with Laura and subsequent early return from New Zealand. Even if the split was amicable and they both agreed that there was no way they were going to work out long term any mention of the idea of himself as sexy or romantic just got him on edge right now.

'You send me an e-mail with your desired hobby to be featured and make sure it is something that can be made to look good… playing rugby, raising kittens that sort of thing.' Moody suggests and Robbie silently wonders if staying in the job is really worth this kind of humiliation.

'Breathe Robbie, it'll be fine' James says placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as they leave the office.

'You seem remarkably unmoved by all this. Didn't have you down as the take your kit off in front of an audience kind of guy.' Robbie growls.

'I have my Gibson and if she's not sexy enough I can borrow an electric guitar from an acquaintance. Everyone loves a rock star right?' James smiles and Robbie is thoroughly envious of his easy confidence. Of course the lad has the looks to pull something like this off. With his long legs, romantic disposition and bright blue eyes he could be the poster boy for any take your kit off project, or a 'be sexy without taking your kit off event, as apparently this was.

He's never actually seen James play his guitar so the idea of getting to watch the man in action was quite appealing. Maybe making a complete arse of himself would be worth it in order to finally get to see James display his prowess in front of an audience.

Well it would be if he had any kind of marketable talent. In the end Robbie finds he has nothing to report to Moody, he doesn't have any skill worth mentioning and his eventual e-mail is far more honest than he thinks Moody will ever realise when he asks if he can't just appear as a groupie in Hathaway's rock star photo shoot.

He receives a reply informing him that Hathaway's music angle is not happening as DI Lauren Williams will be covering the music angle. She plays the cello which is, according to Moody, a much sexier instrument than James' guitar. Robbie suspects that the reason why the cello is deemed more sexy has more to do with the fact that Williams has curves enough to match that cello of hers and Moody is obviously 110% straight.

The long and the short of the message however is Moody informing him that with the aid of a compliant Maddox, they have got hold of Lyn who has revealed that Robert Lewis is, thanks to his dead wife's demands, quite a skilled ballroom dancer.

The worst thing is that he can't even deny it. Val had dragged him to classes twice a week for the entire year preceding their wedding and at the end of it he hadn't even really minded because as Moody and Lyn suggested, it had turned out that he wasn't half bad at it.

He hates showing it off mind you, would do anything not to have to dance in public but that doesn't mean he doesn't secretly love it. He loves it enough that he finds himself wondering if DI Lovett who has been assigned as his dancing partner can actually dance or if he will be carrying her around the dance floor. It will never be the way it was with Val, but it could possibly be fun to dance again with a good partner.

He returns to the office significantly more cheerful which is quite the opposite of how James returns ten minutes later. Robbie suspects that it is the rejection of his rock star idea that is to blame for James' foul mood and he wonders what Moody might have found to torment James with.


	2. Chapter 2

It takes Robbie two more days until they are actually socialising outside of work before he feels he can ask about James and the Calendar. 'I know Moody didn't buy the music angle so what is he making you do?'

'Don't ask.' James groans slightly.

'Well I'll see it in the calendar after all won't I.' Lewis grins at him.

'Not if I can find any way of getting out of it.' James stares into his drink before turning suddenly a bit defiant. 'I haven't heard you owning up to what you're doing yet.' He looks mischievously at his colleague, knowing that he has effectively turned the tables around. 'You digging a borrowed prize allotment with your shirt off, or bouncing your grandson on your lap under a Christmas tree?' It's meant to be his usual facetious snarky comments but for some reason it doesn't quite come out that way.

Even so Robbie laughs, throwing his head back. 'Moody said sexy and personal. Me with me shirt off would be neither and the granddad look is certainly not sexy, or sensual, or whatever it is Moody wants us to be.' James opens his mouth to say something but closes it again and they both sit for a minute in silence.

'So what is it then, your sexy personal skill?' James eyes twinkle in the light from the pub as he asks.

Robbie can't help it, he can feel himself blushing. He takes a large gulp of his beer and looks James straight in the eye. 'You're not allowed to laugh.' He orders sternly and steels himself as he watches James nod. 'I'm dancing.' He says seriously and watches as James' eyes go wide.

'But you don't dance.' James says incredulously.

'Not since Val. She made me learn for the wedding.' Is Robbie's simple answer and James' face falls.

Silence reigns again for a long moment while they both contemplate that.

'He wants me on a horse.' It is almost a whisper and James is staring into his pint as he utters it.

'He what now?' It's Robbie's turn to be dumbfounded.

'I used to ride dressage, before I went to Uni and took up rowing instead. Maddox found out from Nell. It had Moody virtually frothing at the mouth.' James bites his lower lip looking miserable. Robbie's mind is suddenly filled with an image of James in riding boots, a fitted jacket and those insanely tight trousers that riders wear, commanding a gleaming horse into a perfect dance. He has every understanding for Moody's excitement.

'Sounds perfect, bet no one else in the station can do that.' Robbie smiles at him but James just shakes his head.

'I'll never live it down. They already think I'm a posh twat.' He sighs and picks at the cuticles on his right hand.

'So show them that you're not ashamed of it. Be "the boy wonder" and "dishy" and good at things that no one else in the station can do. It's you, don't hide.' He says and for an instance he has the crazy urge to reach out and still James' fretful hand, to prevent him from doing damage to his fingers. He stops himself just in time.

'That sounds suspiciously like flirting sir, you might put ideas in my head.' James eyes are twinkling again as he teases.

'Give over man, I'm quoting Laura.' Robbie huffs.

'Are we actually doing this then? James asks, 'You're actually going to get up there, in a tux and waltz some unsuspecting girl around a ballroom for Moody's calendar?'

'Not for Moody's calendar.' Robbie corrects 'To keep me job, and you'll do the same.'

Slowly and with hesitation James gives a small nod, and just like that it's decided and even though Moody has got his way he hasn't really won, because this is their pact, to get what they want.


	3. Chapter 3

It takes Moody surprisingly little time to set the whole shoot up. Then again he would have to be quick about it as the idea is to release it for sale in time for the Christmas rush and it was already October. No surprise then that the photographer turned out to be Moody's cousin's son. The boy did turn out to have a pretty decent reputation though so even though there were a few whispers no one complained too much.

The venues were more impressive than the photographer when they were released a week before the shoot. Robbie wasn't sure whether to be thrilled or terrified when it turned out that he would be waltzing through Divinity Hall a week later. He's the last person to be photographed on the first day of the shoot.

James is the last but one the next day, in South Park which is conveniently central. That means at least they should be able to get some work done before they get to their shoots, even though they have been ordered to be there an hour before the time if dressed and an hour and a half if they need to change.

It doesn't say on the plan which hobby each person will be showing and Robbie silently wonders at some of them. Peterson is being shot at home in the morning which makes Robbie very curious. Moody too is being shot at home and if it wasn't for the fact that he had the shoot before Robbie's own he would have been tempted to just turn up and spy. As it were he needed to be getting ready for his own shoot, maybe he could send James on a recon mission.

After having agreed to do the shoots they don't talk about it, him and James. There is a lot of gossip in the office about who is doing what and who will get which month. Those in the office who have had the assignment foisted on them are hoping for October or maybe May. Months where there are not a lot of holidays, which seem somehow less interesting. Among the more eager January is high on the list, it is the first month after all, the one everyone will see first. In the end though it is December that has a poll on it as to who will get the honour. Everyone agrees that most calendars will keep the best picture for last, the one with the most atmosphere, the most attractive one. Yes December is the prize alright and the betting is rife, with Moody and Peterson running a tight race as number one with their mysterious home shoots.

Three days before the shoots start Peterson suddenly pulls ahead in the stakes for December. Someone has leaked that him and his fiancé raise Ragdoll kittens. When they hear this James and Robbie both burst out laughing. They can just imagine him. Action man, in a leather jacket, or maybe a knitted sweater with a pile of fluffy white kittens climbing all over him.

The day before the whole circus is about to begin Robbie and James finally talk about it, but only to agree that they will try to get as much work done as possible, that they will attend each other's shoots to offer moral support and ward off unwanted audiences, of course with a promise that they will not laugh even if the other person does look like a prat.


	4. Chapter 4

Robbie wakes up the next day unsure what on earth he is supposed to be feeling. He is frustrated to have been pushed into this. He's excited about once again trying out his ability in that beautiful room. He's tickled by the cheeky grin James had given him across the office as he got up to leave. 'Home and practice, I'm looking forward to tomorrow.' He'd said with just a hint of a smile and those blue eyes sparkling with mirth. More than anything though, he is terrified. Terrified of looking like an idiot, of forgetting his steps, of people laughing when they see his photo, but more than anything he is terrified of making James think less of him, of somehow losing his respect.

It is with trepidation therefore, that he makes his way to the office with his suit carrier. He drops it off in the office and heads off to get coffee for himself and James. There are a lot of giggles in the break room about the photo shoots going on during the day and plenty of the DS's are exchanging gossip and trying to figure out ways of sneaking their way onto the shoots. Maddox is thankfully remaining tight lipped about the mess she is, more or less, solely responsible for getting them into, well her and Moody jointly really. Strangely, despite the embarrassment he isn't really sure that he is angry with them for doing so.

They manage almost a full day's work before Robbie has to pick up DI Ann Lovett and head over to the shoot. They can both tell that they aren't really as sharp as usual. Both of their minds are drifting toward what they are going to be doing this evening and tomorrow afternoon. It's a good thing therefore, that they're just doing research and paperwork rather than trying to tackle a serial killer or something equally dramatic. Although if that happened, Moody would probably have to pull them from the unofficial calendar assignment.

Eventually with butterflies in his stomach Robbie stands and gathers his things up. 'Right.' He sighs.

'See you in an hour.' James promises with a small nod toward the door.

By the time James arrives at the shoot Robbie is dressed in a neat dinner jacket and a woman with a gigantic makeup arsenal is applying something to his face. They have smoothed his hair down with something that is making it look slightly glossy but to James' relief they have not tried to hide the grey highlights. They give Robbie a distinguished dignity, lends him gravity and to lose them would have been a mistake. His face looks smoother than usual though, as if the girl in front of him has managed to take ten years of worries away with the aid of her brushes. But that's not really right either, Robbie is much less weighed down by worries now than he had been ten years ago when James had come to pick him up at the airport.

Maybe that is why Robbie looks so at peace in that chair James thinks. Today has got to be a reminder of happier times, of swirling his wife round a ballroom floor. James stays there watching as the makeup artist finishes and then as Robbie stands up scanning the crowd he crosses to him.

'Is that eyeliner sir?' James quips before he can help himself. Robbie looks good so why must he always take the piss out of everything.

'Oi, it's your turn tomorrow so keep it in unless you want to be paid in kind.' Robbie warns, but he's smiling as he looks around for his partner for the evening.

She comes toward him with her hand extended, looking exquisite in a blue two tone ball gown which perfectly complements the blue details of the room's décor. She is slim but not skinny and as Robbie leads her out into the empty room James can do nothing but stare.

He doesn't notice anything that is going on around him any more, not the photographer getting his camera ready and starting to take a few trial shots, not the crew gathering up behind him to watch, not even the little crowd of students that stop to peek through the door.

The music starts up and with a fluid motion Robbie takes his partners hand and first spin her away from him slightly only to pull her in again, wrapping a strong arm around her back and guiding her into a classical waltz.

It isn't the dancing of the above fifties cruise with ageing men sedately moving their slightly clumsy partners through rarely practiced steps, nor is it the flashy ballroom dancing of the kind that they do in competitions. No, this is exactly what it was always meant to be, pure romance. If the dress had been white they could have been an advert for a school offering lessons to make that first dance at the wedding perfect. It's Cinderella not Strictly Come Dancing and James can't help but stare.

Robbie leans forward and whispers something into his partner's ear, she gives him a brilliant smile and a small nod and then suddenly they are spinning at nearly twice the speed. Robbie is a solid pole of strength around which the young DI spins with skirts swirling and if James could form a coherent thought he would have registered that they have just gone from a classic waltz to a Viennese one.

He can't think though, all he can do is feel and to his horror, what he feels is longing and jealousy. He's fumbled around the dance floor with girls at enough functions through his life. With Scarlet as a child when she needed a partner for lessons, then when his boarding school had held mixers with the neighbouring girls school, at Cambridge far too often even if he had tended to try to avoid it. Never has a girl looked at him with the same admiration that Ann is looking at Robbie with now. She is so safe in his arms, so trusting, so happy, her smile could brighten the hall all by itself. He's never caused anyone to feel that way and what is somehow worse and more confusing, no one has ever made him feel that either. Yes he would like someone to look at him with that kind of trust, but more than anything he would like to be held in a way that made him feel that safe, that happy, that loved. When the music slows Robbie catches Ann in a low dip, leaning her back and making her giggle.

James doesn't realise he's crying until the music fades and everyone around him starts to clap enthusiastically. It's the most romantic thing he's ever seen and the couple dancing aren't even in love. He wipes frantically at his eyes as the two dancers stand panting and Robbie turns to the photographer to ask if he needs another go around.

James wishes desperately for a repeat, regardless of how painful it was to watch, it was so beautiful. But he is disappointed, the photographer shakes his head, obviously as stunned as the rest of the audience. 'Give me a minute to check these, but I'm pretty sure I got what I need.' He assures Robbie.

As Robbie and Ann make their way back to where James has been waiting he steels himself and tries to plaster a non-emotional face on. He's not sure how well it works but Robbie just grins at him and he manages a weak smile back.

'So, how did we do?' Robbie asks.

'You might just give Peterson's kittens a run for their money.' James tries for the only form of compliment that he feels won't give away just how fast his heart is still beating.

Robbie beams at him, face flushed after the dance. 'Well if nothing else, that was more fun than I expected. Never thought I'd do that again after I lost Val.'

'You should do it more often. I'd be up for an evening out any time, my fiancée has two left feet.' Ann smiles and gives Robbie a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before sauntering off to ask the photographer for a sneak peek at the photos. She's too late as the man is already heading toward them with the hugest grin on his face. 'That's a wrap guys, great work.' He beams at them and after shaking Robbie's hand he leans into Ann placing a hand on her hip and in what can by no means be considered a whisper he mumbles into her ear, 'You were beautiful out there'

'Thank you.' She says curtly, pulling off her long gloves to flash the engagement ring on her left hand. 'Ready to go Robbie?' she asks holding out said hand to him. The request is hardly subtle but Robbie is quick to pick up on the desire to be rescued and like the knight in shining armour that he is he takes her by the hand.

'Always. See you tomorrow James, and thank you for coming.' Robbie gives James' shoulder a quick squeeze before turning and guiding Ann away toward where they have left their clothes.

James watches them as they go, as they pick their bags up without going to the changing rooms and head out towards Robbie's car in which they had arrived together. When they turn out of the hall and out of sight he sinks onto one of the wooden benches piled against one wall that have already been started to be put back into place by student helpers. He puts his head in his hands, closing his eyes. His mind is oddly blank considering how many conflicting emotions are warring for attention in his chest.

'I feel with you mate. He's far too old for her, no matter how good a dancer he is. Must be hell working with that every day.' The young photographer places a heavy and unwelcome hand on James' shoulder where Robbie had squeezed it moments before.

James angrily shrugs him off and stands. 'You have no idea.' He snaps bitterly before stalking off.


	5. Chapter 5

James is woken by the alarm he always has set on his mobile only to realise he's asleep on his sofa in yesterday's clothes, again. Two packets of cigarettes and a bottle and half of wine had clearly not been the best dinner. He feels awful, horribly nauseous and head pounding. He's not sure what on earth happened last night to get him into this state. He just stumbles up and throws himself into the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. Sitting on the chilly bathroom floor, leaning against the bath he is finally able to collect his thoughts and remember what had happened.

He feels ridiculous. He knows he's lonely, that at some level, one he tries to ignore, he wishes someone would love and support him. He also knows that Robbie is the closest he has ever got to actually having that. Getting his pipe dream, of a loving home, someone to hold him as he sleeps and kiss him goodbye in the morning, confused with what he has with Robbie however is not on, Robbie would be mortified if he knew.

He makes it into work without his stomach revolting again but he doesn't manage any breakfast beyond two cigarettes and the cup of coffee he picks up at the station. It is bitter and probably doing more harm than good, but at least when Robbie turns up a few minutes later he thinks he'll be able to hide just how wretched he's feeling.

Robbie comes in actually humming and looking so genuinely happy that James actually manages to return a faint smile. 'Good night then?' James asks.

'And an equally good morning I hope.' Robbie says holding up a paper bag with two large take away coffees.' Despite himself James smiles softly accepting the cup of steaming coffee, savouring the smell. The morning is certainly better for Robbie and decent coffee having arrived.

Come lunchtime Robbie saunters over and perches on the desk next to James who is trying to keep his concentration on a witness statement but failing miserable. With the upcoming photo shoot at the forefront of his mind and Robbie's beautiful performance in the back of it combined with a blood sugar low enough that his hands are shaking, James has read the same page four times without getting anything out of it.

'You alright? You look pale. Are you nervous?' Robbie asks.

'No.' James answers with a sigh as he puts the papers down.

'What is it then?' Robbie asks, his eyes soft and concerned.

'Fine, yes I am. I haven't been on a horse in twenty years.' James concedes. It isn't entirely a lie, it's just only a small fraction of the turmoil he's going through right now.

'Oh, right. Are you scared you won't remember how?'

'Not really, just the last time I was on one I got thrown, badly. For the first few days they thought I might never walk again. My mother made me promise I would never get on a horse again. It sort of feels weird doing so now that she's dead.' James confesses. It is true, even if it is not really something he has thought about until he says it. He's been too occupied with dealing with how the photo shoot is going to go down at work to really consider what this might mean for the promise he had made to his mother.

Robbie leans forward at that moment and takes his hands in his own. 'Oh, Christ lad, you're trembling.' Robbie looks worried as he squeezes James hands.

For a second James is about to say something snappy about lack of breakfast and blood sugar crashes but Robbie is looking at him with such concern and his thumb has started to rub across James' wrist. James' throat feels thick and he can't say anything.

Robbie can feel the slight tremble in James' hands as he clasps them and if James isn't scared then suddenly Robbie is. He looks down into the lad's eyes and they look glazed, far away. He wants to pull him into a hug and shield him from whatever is making him look this lost but that would be crossing a boundary they have never crossed before. Even placing his hands on James' hands feels like something of a violation of trust.

Instead he stands, releasing one of James' hands and using the other to gently tug him to his feet. 'Come on, I'm taking you to lunch and then we're both going to tell Moody that he can forget about putting you on anything that isn't completely safe and that you're not comfortable with.'

Over pie and chips and a sneaky half pint in the White Horse James manages to convince Robbie that he's fine doing the shoot. He uses some convoluted argument about doing it for his mother's sake and her not wanting him to be scared for the rest of his life but Robbie sees through it. 'You want to go out there don't you? See if you can still do it?' he asks.

'Is someone speaking from experience?' James asks and Robbie just looks blankly back at him. This isn't about me lad. Ballrom dancing can't kill you, and I never promised Val I wouldn't dance with anyone else. She would have thought me daft if I had.' He looks serious and his hand hovers over the table and for a fleeting moment James thinks he might reach out and take his hand again like he had in the office.

'I'll be fine. Besides you'll be there to hold my hand.' The comment is made with the usual facetious smirk but there is a level of truth to it none the less, there often is to James snarky comments. James is up and out of his chair before Robbie has a chance to respond.


	6. Chapter 6

They drive round to the shoot straight after lunch. The photographer wants to make sure they catch the changing light of dusk and sunset and he wants James ready and changed into his clothes by three as James has claimed he will need a little while with the horse to get to know each other and warm up before he'll be able to do anything resembling posing.

As James goes to get changed Robbie wanders over to where the horse is being kept to still his curiosity. He blinks in amazement at the creature before him. It is nothing like the horses that he used to see in the stables Lyn had sometimes liked to frequent. He had thought them large and intimidating but in comparison this creature is both a giant and a marvel of imposing beauty. It is huge and glossy black with a thick, wavy mane longer than anything he has seen before. The stereotype of Black Beauty springs to mind when it looks at him with keen eyes and then comes forward to sniff and poke at the pockets of his jacket to search for treats.

Robbie stroked it's soft neck smiling as it kept trying to dig through his jacket. 'If I had anything nice I would give it to you' He promised, scratching gently at the forehead through the long fringe. They stand there in companionable silence, almost like Robbie and James do when they are both wrapped up in thinking about a case.

'You take good care of him now, you hear me. You will, won't you? You're a good boy.' Robbie nudges the horse.

'It's a Mare Robbie, and she'll be a very good girl' comes James voice from behind him and Robbie whirls around.

He's been waiting for this moment since that day in the pub when James told him what he would be doing for his shoot, and yet he could never have imagined the vision standing in front of him now.

The riding boots are there, as are the immaculate tight fitting trousers. James' top half however is not the strict tailoring that Robbie associates with faint glimpses of dressage competitions during Lyn's horse obsession phase. Instead the jacket is softer in cut and hanging open over a white shirt that has some kind of soft cravat attached to it. In his hand James is holding a velvet top hat. He looks like he's stepped straight out of a posh period drama.

'If you laugh I will kill you slowly and painfully.' James promises as Robbie stares silently at him.

'I won't laugh.' Is all Robbie manages to get out. ' _You look great'_ is wanting to force itself out but it seems utterly inadequate, ' _You're beautiful'_ is probably not PC nor are any of the other verbs that spring to his mind.

'Right, let's get this show on the road.' James shrugs and hands Robbie his top hat. Then he moves round his colleague to get to the horse who's name is apparently Justice. James speaks to her in quiet soothing tones as he efficiently gets her ready for the ride. He feeds her a small apple and for the life of him Robbie can't imagine where he might have got it from, there is not an inch of extra space in that outfit to hide any treats in.

Then with an impossible agility James mounts the horse in one smooth movement and sorts out the length of the stirrups before reaching down for the hat.

For the second that they're both holding the brim on either side Robbie doesn't let go. Instead he looks straight at James and asks in a serious voice 'Not nervous any more?'

'Terrified.' James admits with a smile but the glint in his eye still makes Robbie let the hat go and step back.

He watches as James takes the horse through her paces. Walk, then trot, then canter before he tries his hand at a few dressage moves. Eventually he returns to Robbie and the photographer with a satisfied smirk on his face.

The cocky lad knows he looks bloody gorgeous, Robbie thinks, and he's making the most of it.

'We're ready, aren't we girl?' James pats the horse's shoulder but directs his comment to the photographer.

It's the same young man as yesterday and he moves forward guiding James to move into various positions, ride in certain directions and look this way or that. At one point he has him discard his jacket and hat and he's up there in nothing but the tight trousers and billowing shirt and he puts Robbie in mind of Prince Charming heading off to save Sleeping Beauty from the castle.

Today's shoot is much more technical than yesterday, more positioning, more second, third and fourth attempts to get the same shot in. It should be no surprise, as working with animals always makes things harder.

As the darkness starts to descend and the sun sets the photographer is getting annoyed at not getting that perfect picture he was hoping for and James and the horse are both starting to be tired. When the young photographer asks James to push through yet another gallop across the field in front of Oxford for the fourth time in a row James flatly refuses. They are starting to raise their voices and James is waving one hand in the air while the photographer is still snapping away.

Robbie can see that the horse is getting as agitated as its rider and he heads over to deflate the situation.

'Don't be a little wimp. You let your boss steal your girl, at least have the balls to make sure you get a better picture than him.' The photographer goads and it suddenly dawns on Robbie that this is exactly what he is doing. He is pushing horse and rider both and Robbie will be damned if he'll let him.

James let's go of the reins with one hand, turning toward the offending man with the flashing lens just as said man lets go of his camera with one hand and with a short flick of the wrist hits Justice across the buttock with his key chain.

She whinnies, bucks and rears and as she rises on her hind legs Robbie stares in terror as a delighted photographer snaps pictures of James reining her in and pulling her back down. It is truly impressive, the sky is pink and orange behind Oxford's spires and James and Justice create a striking silhouette against it as James desperately shorten the reins bringing them back down to solid ground. For a second it looks like he's back in control, then Justice seems to dance a few steps before she bucks and bends forward and James topples to the side over her neck and onto the ground before her.

Released of her burden the mare takes off but she doesn't go far, a few hundred metres away she comes to a sudden stop and looks back, like she's lost something and she doesn't know if she should go back to retrieve it.

Robbie is oblivious to all this, he's running at a pelt shouting to all and sundry to get help, call an ambulance, do anything. He doesn't have time to get to James however before he shifts and sits up a little awkwardly.

'Are you alright?' Robbie crouches next to James hand hovering above his hunched form, afraid to touch.

'I'm fine.' James hisses, 'Nothing broken but my ego, and that photographer's neck once I get a hold of him.' James groans rotating his shoulder with a grimace. There's mud in his hair, and mud and grass stains all along the left side of his beautiful outfit and Robbie can't stop fretting.

'You sure you're okay?' he asks reaching out to tilt James' chin up so he can look him in the eye.

'Wet, cold and embarrassed. I really don't care about this shoot any more, can we just go home?' There is something of a new born foal about James as he struggles to get up from the ground, all long limbs and hesitant movements.

He's almost on his feet, straightening to stand when an unexpected pain shoots through his knee and he slumps to the side catching himself by grabbing hold of Robbie who steps in to wrap an arm around him.

The photographer has disappeared once he realised he'd miscalculated the effect of his action but a young PC is approaching looking concerned and Robbie is suddenly aware that everyone, apart from the horse's owner who has gone after her charge, is staring at them. A frantic looking assistant is talking animatedly on the phone. She's gesticulating wildly at Robbie and James even though there is no way that the person on the other end of the phone can see them.

The young PC approaches the two men like they were the frightened animal and Robbie realises they must look odd. Robbie's arm is wrapped around James who is clutching the wrist of Robbie's other arm to hold himself steady as they lean against each other.


	7. Chapter 7

James stands very still. His knee is throbbing, a dull ache at the back of his mind. It's not too bad, he could easily stand by himself or at least just hold onto Robbie for a bit of stability but the moment is too magical to let go of.

Not twenty four hours ago he had watched Robbie wrap his arm protectively around his partner in a dance and dreamed that just once someone might touch him like that. Now here he is with Robbie's arm wrapped securely around his back in what can only be described as a less formal copy of exactly the same position.

'Do you still want that ambulance? Only he seems to be up and walking…' he hears and looks up from where he's leaning against Robbie's shoulder. It's PC Colin Ferguson who stands with his phone held up to his ear.

'I'm perfectly alright Ferguson, I've just twisted my knee.' James manages to sound just as calm and collected as always despite the fact that he is strangely entwined with his former boss and his heart is going a mile a minute.

Robbie supports him as he limps back to the car, ignoring the need to get changed back into his suit. Robbie is alternating fussing over him and grumbling half whispered curses over the stupid photographer. James doesn't know if the sound of him is irritating or soothing but there is something very sweet about the way that Robbie leans in and fastens his seatbelt for him as though he is putting a child or an elderly relative into the car.

'I'm really alright.' James assures him, reaching out to catch Robbie's shoulder before he has a chance to pull away.

Robbie still pulls out of the car before rounding it and sitting down in the driver's seat. After a minute of tense silence he finally turns toward James and spends another moment, just looking at him.

'I'm going to give you two options.' Robbie asserts, reaching out to brush some of the dirt out of James hair. It is still damp so it doesn't work very well. The more surprising effect is James closing his eyes with a small sigh. 'What's that sir.' James hasn't called him 'sir' in years and it's disconcerting.

'Ah, man… don't call me that. I'm not your boss, but you're still going to listen to me and do as I tell you.' Robbie's voice is firm but he feels a little stupid ordering his younger colleague around, even when it is for his own good.

'Ok.' James agrees, rather to Robbie's surprise.

'I know you hit your head lad, your hair is full of mud. Now either I take you to A&E or you come back to mine so I can keep an eye on you. No way am I leaving you in your flat tonight.' He pushes knowing that James is likely to put up a protest.

'Your place.' James agrees without protest and though Robbie is surprised at the easy acquiescence he pulls out of the parking lot and heads for home.

It doesn't occur to him until they are halfway there that 'home' is in fact largely three rooms filled with boxes as he has barely had time to unpack. Getting back from New Zealand it had taken him nearly two months to find a place of his own and he's only had his boxes moved into the place for two weeks. Too late to change his mind now though, and anyway he'd rather be sat among his boxes than for fruitless hours in A&E. At least the TV is unpacked and they can order take away.

'Indian, Chinese or Pizza?' Robbie asks his passenger.

'I don't mind.' James is staring out of the window, absentmindedly rubbing his bruised shoulder.

'Don't give me that, you have an opinion on everything.'

'In that case, a brandy, an in ice pack and a good excuse to never have to go in and face the office again.' James grumbles.

'Don't be stupid Jim. It wasn't your fault. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.'

James makes a tight frustrated noise and turns away watching as the dusk grows increasingly darker around them while Robbie drives back home.


	8. Chapter 8

With a distinctly morose James in the car Robbie decides to forgo stopping for a take away and instead goes straight home. He has enough menus at home and they can get it delivered.

He's decidedly confused by James strange behaviour. First the lad turns up looking like a blond Mr Darcy, all smug and self-confident, then he goes toppling off the horse and he clings to Robbie like there is no tomorrow, something Robbie never thought he would experience, and now he is all sullen and sulking. It's like being on an emotional rollercoaster, he has no idea what direction the lad's mood might take him in next.

He gets his answer. When they get to the flat James is out of the car before Robbie has even got his seatbelt off. Once outside however he stands there swaying slightly as though he isn't sure if the trip to the front door is a good idea or not.

It is an odd association but he reminds Robbie of Morse's beloved Jaguar when it had been dented and damaged by a suspect. Dented and damaged but not less beautiful for that and putting it on blatant display that those things, and people, who are truly great are often also very fragile.

James' hesitation gives Robbie the time to round the car and join him. He doesn't ask if James wants help. He knows if he does the answer will be a self-conscious negative. Instead he slip an arm around his back and nudges James in the direction of the front door.

They make it into the box filled flat and slump down on the sofa where Robbie rifles through a bunch of Take away menu's and finally orders Chicken tikka masala and Lamb Madras. Meanwhile James sits in a corner of the sofa, slumped against the armrest, prodding at his injured knee and looking miserable.

'Right, take your trousers off.' Robbie orders as he stands to head into the kitchenette.

'Sorry?' James blushes and slouches slightly.

'You need to take your trousers off so you can ice that knee of yours.' Robbie explains, feeling inordinately pleased at the tinge of red spreading across James' cheeks.

'They're jodhpurs actually.' James retorts but he sounds more petulant than actually challenging.

'Whatever they are, take them off, I'll be right back.' Robbie orders and then heads off into the kitchen to search for what he wants.

James struggles to get out of the boots and jodhpurs. It's hard enough removing riding boots without a knee that won't bend properly and the whole endeavour is something of an ordeal. He ends up having to remove his jacket in order to reach properly and even then it is a struggle.

When Robbie returns he is lying on the sofa in nothing but the billowy shirt and a pair of briefs. He has one arm slung across his eyes and if before he looked rather like a romantic hero he has now taken on more of the aspect of a swooning heroine.

Robbie smiles as he sees the pink socks sticking out of the top of one boot. James has clearly deemed them not aesthetic enough to be worn because his feet are bare and the socks have been balled up and stuck into one of the boots.

'As requested.' Robbie offers, holding out a brandy. James removes the hand from his eyes and accepts the drink appreciatively. He starts to get up but Robbie holds out a hand to stop him. Setting his own drink down on the side table he lifts James' feet and slides in under them.

James watches in astonishment as Robbie positions himself so that James' lower legs are resting in his lap. Placing the ice pack over James swollen knee he grabs a blanket from the back of the sofa and spreads it over James' legs before turning on the TV.

They are ostensibly watching some kind of home decorating program, which seems apt considering the state of Robbie's flat. Neither of them is actually watching however. Robbie's concentration is focused on the thumping of James' pulse on the side of the ankle he is holding carefully in his right hand and James has attention for nothing much other than Robbie's thumb drawing circles on his ankle. The atmosphere is simultaneously relaxed and strangely tense. It is as though something has shifted in their relationship. Like a wall that has always been painted blue that someone has suddenly sloppily sprayed with green spray paint. The wall is still blue, but there is no denying that it is no longer just a blue wall.

'Are you alright?' Robbie suddenly asks.

'Just bruised, I'm fine.' James smiles but Robbie shakes his head.

'I don't mean the fall, I mean this…' Robbie makes a sweeping gesture with his hand '… whatever this is.'

James blushes furiously but recovers himself quickly 'You mean, you ordering me to come home with you, telling me to take my clothes off and rubbing my feet.' There is no real bite in James' voice, just gentle teasing but now it is Robbie's turn to blush.

'I… erhm…' Robbie isn't normally tongue tied but he has no response to that. Does he apologise, claim it wasn't meant as the romantic overture James has made it out to be, but then the lad is joking, surely… or maybe he's not because what the hell is this new thing between them. He's about to panic when James reaches out a hand and awkwardly wraps it around the one Robbie has been using to hold the ice pack to his knee.

Robbie's hand has gone almost numb with cold and James' fingers are like branding irons to his skin as they wrap around it. 'It's ok.' James whispers softly and even though he isn't sure what exactly it is that is 'ok' it makes Robbie relax.

They sit there hand in hand for moments that seem to go on forever, waves of strange, tingling, but not uncomfortable tension washing over them until suddenly the doorbell rings.

'It's the food. I'll get it.' Robbie says and extricates himself from beneath James. Despite the residual warmth he leaves behind, his absence seems to leave a cold empty space and James pulls his feet in, hugging his knees despite the pain it causes. He sits in silence, listening to Robbie pay for the food. His head feels like it's full of cotton wool and he's pretty sure it's not from hitting it in the fall. He's barely aware of the bruises, all he can feel is the fluttering of his own heart and a strange emptiness in his stomach that has nothing to do with physical hunger. He doesn't care about the food. All he wants is for Robbie to come back and touch him again, to hold him like he had at the photo shoot or stroke his naked leg like he had just a second ago.

Robbie returns with a bag of take away, cutlery, two plates and beer to find James curled up on the sofa, staring at a muted TV. Robbie sits down next to him and starts to pick the boxes of food out of the bag and after a few seconds James joins him. They eat in silence, sat side by side, nearly but not quite touching. When they're done Robbie tops up their brandy glasses and leans back in the sofa with a satisfied grin.

James shifts and frets next to him unable to find a position in which he is comfortable. Robbie watches him for a moment and then with a breathy chuckle he stills James with a hand on his shoulder. 'Just lie down and put your leg up, it worked before and I don't want you either hurting or fussing like this.' James nods and Robbie expects him to stretch out with his legs in Robbie's lap like before. Instead he turns around and it is James' head and shoulders that land in Robbie's lap.

For a second Robbie is completely at a loss as to where to put his hands. After a moment's hesitation he carefully places his right hand on the top of James' head and his left lightly resting across James' chest. The mud in James' hair has dried and as Robbie brushes his fingers across it the dirt crumbles away. It seems ample excuse to allow his fingers free reign of James' short golden hair. He's only cleaning it after all. James just closes his eyes and smiles so the ministrations don't seem unwelcome.

Robbie has less of an excuse when he decides that since James isn't watching and he couldn't care less about how to source original Victorian fireplaces, he will turn the TV off. Silence reigns in the flat for two minutes until he manages to find the right control to turn on the stereo. The prelude to Lohegrin sounds softly through the room and Robbie returns his hand to the top of James' head. Thank God for Morse and his attempts to educate Robbie about music, if left to his own devices they would have ended up with some horrid 70s pop music that would not have been at all suitable to the strangely electric mood in the room.

After a minute or two James eyes open. They are unusually dark in the softly lit room, pupils blown wide and bright with what looks like unshed tears.

'What's wrong?' Robbie asks concerned. 'Should I not have?' He's suddenly terribly aware of the awkwardness of their current position and he quickly removes his hands from James who instantly twists around and sits up next to him looking distraught, tears spilling through thick, wet eyelashes as he sits up. 'No I'm just happy, please do that again.' James clutches Robbie's hand and brings it up to his own face. Without hesitation Robbie cups his cheek in his palm and wipes the tears away with his thumb.

'I'm going to do something now, and if you don't want me to you have to tell me.' Robbie whispers uncertainly.

James gives a small nod and at the acknowledgement Robbie leans forward and touches his lips against James'. It's hesitant and a little awkward but James makes a soft sobbing noise and presses himself closer. Robbie's arm snakes around his back and pulls him in tighter until he is almost sitting in the older man's lap.

'Is this what you want?' Robbie whispers into the silky hair behind James' ear.

'I want to dance with you, like you did with DI Lovett yesterday.' James admits, unable to look Robbie in the eye.

'Ah, soft lad.' Robbie smiles 'Stay.' He orders before getting up and heading over to a box which holds his CDs. He has to lift quite a few out of the box before he finds what he wants. By the time he has the CD in the player and the first few bars of the Waltz from Swan lake sounds James has managed to wiggle his way back into his trousers and is pulling his boots back on with a grimace.

'What are you doing?' Robbie asks, amused by the awkward display.

'Cinderella did not go to the ball in her knickers and neither will I.' It is supposed to sound ironic but James looks a little too sincere and sensitive to make it truly believable.

'Come on then.' Robbie holds out his hand and pulls James to his feet. James winces slightly and Robbie steps in with a firm hand under his elbow. 'Sure your knee is up to it?' He asks, and James doesn't answer, just nods and steps a little closer. 'Lean on me if you need to, I'll support you' Robbie offers as he wraps his arm around James' back, pulling him in closer than is strictly warranted for a waltz.

'You always do.' James whispers under his breath as he places his left hand on Robbie's shoulder and his right in Robbie's hand.

There is no room for an actual waltz between the boxes in Robbie's living room and despite his assurances James' steps are a little hesitant and uneven as he attempts not to favour his right knee but carefully Robbie leads him in a series of twirling motions around the obstacle course that is Robbie's piles of moving boxes. They're not even half way through the waltz when they bump in to a box of books which goes flying, spreading across the floor with a crash. They stop but instead of breaking apart and abandoning the dance Robbie pulls him in tighter, releasing the grasp on his hand in favour of wrapping both arms around his back.

They stand there awkwardly entwined, listening to each other's breathing and silently acknowledging the evidence that this most certainly is no longer a blue wall.

The last bars of the waltz fade out and without knowing who has taken the lead they're kissing again, carefully, still testing the waters. 'I was wont to be alone in this fair garden, till he came, unasked by night' James whispers as he leans his forehead against Robbie's shoulder.

'I don't know where you got that from and I don't have any poetry to give you back, all I have is one last instruction. You're not my sergeant any longer so you don't have to listen to me. I will suggest you do one of two things though. I am going to go into the kitchen and get another drink. When I get back you can either have picked up the rest of your clothes and called yourself a taxi, in which case we will pretend that tonight never happened, or you can take those things off again and make your way into the bedroom and we will most certainly have to talk about it, but not until tomorrow.' Robbie releases James and heads into the kitchen where he pours himself a stiff brandy and compels himself not to think.

He forces himself to wait for five excruciating minutes before heading back into the living room. It's empty. James clothes are gone and for a second Robbie's insides grow cold before he hears a thump of something from the bedroom.

Robbie opens the door to a sight he never thought he'd see in his life. When he thought of James in bed, and yes the thought had crossed his mind, the vision he had was of the young man sprawled out naked on top of fancy sheets. Robbie doesn't own fancy sheets. The ones currently on his bed are faded blue with wooden buttons holding the bottom together, and James isn't sprawled seductively across them, he is curled at the head of the bed, knees drawn up and covering himself self-consciously with the duvet.

When Robbie steps through the door and puts the brandy bottle down on the night stand before starting to unbutton his own shirt James' eyes grow wide. He reaches out and takes a swallow of the brandy straight from the bottle revealing the colourful bruises across his shoulder and arm.

Six hours ago Robbie had watched a fantasy creature mount that horse. This was nothing like that, no romantic dream or lust filled fantasy. James is bruised and nervous and Robbie is downright terrified but as Robbie lets his trousers drop and kicks off his socks, James smiles. Then as Robbie sit's down on the bed James inches closer and melts into Robbie's arms.

No this is certainly no pornographic fantasy, it is awkward and strange and utterly terrifying but it is also just as it should be and when Robbie slips under the duvet to join James all thoughts of fantasy calendar images are gone and left is only two men who have loved each other for longer than they care to admit and who have finally found their way home.

It had not been love at first sight, nothing as simple as that, and yet somehow everything that had happened after that first meeting in the airport seemed to have lead them steadily and inexorably toward this point.


End file.
